The Last Rays of the Sun
by Lapse
Summary: An unspoken law in the supernatural world: never make a deal with the devil. Well, I hadn't, but I'm pretty sure I did the next best – er, worst – thing. / WotO crossover. Pairings inside. Multiple POVs. / Temporary hiatus - see chapter three notes
1. For Want of a Nail

**AN:** **This story is a crossover with Kelley Armstrong's other series, Women of the Otherworld. Only... it's not really a crossover, because they're actually set in the same universe.** It won't happen for a while, though. The story deviates after the third and final book of the Darkest Powers series, before Darkness Rising begins; for Women of the Otherworld, as it stands I am only at book seven, and do not own nine or eleven. So after No Humans Involved, it may deviate slightly. I'm not quite sure when the two series meet chronologically, but I'm assuming it's around the tenth book or so, where Logan and Katherine are... what, three? Four? Anyway, it'll be **several chapters** before any serious crossing over (in the non-death related sense; I won't make any promises there!) begins... and, umm, enjoy? Please. xD

**Rating:** T currently. Possibly M later, though likely not for sexual interaction.

**Pairings:** Darkest Powers: Derek/Chloe. Women of the Otherworld: Clay/Elena; Adam/Savannah; Lucas/Paige; Jeremy/Jaime; Kristof/Eve; Karl/Hope; possibly others.

**Disclaimer: **Darkest Powers, Women of the Otherworld and all related works belong to Kelley Armstrong. I only own this storyline, and any original characters (which will be mentioned at the beginning of the chapter – they won't play major protagonist roles) inserted.

* * *

**LAST RAYS OF THE SUN**

a

_Darkest Powers_

fanfiction

by

**Lapse**

_An unspoken law in the supernatural world: never make a deal with the devil. Well, I hadn't, but I'm pretty sure I did the next best – er, worst – thing. / Deviates from canon after the end of The Reckoning. Women of the Otherworld crossover._

* * *

**Chapter One**

For Want of a Nail, Part I

It took about two weeks stuck with her to realize Tori's mood swings were a sign of progress. No, Derek didn't think so, and I'm pretty sure Simon would have made a face if I mentioned it to him, but they definitely looked like progress to _me_.

When Aunt Lauren finally caved about letting me call dad, I was then sent to Mr. Bae, who would give me the final verdict. Luckily, Derek and Simon were both lurking around the motel lobby doing... something (I quickly learned that Simon had a sneaky streak, and that Derek _never_ said no... to Simon), so only Tori 'insisted' on tagging along. I had no idea why – it certainly didn't involve her. But I let her come with me anyway, because she actually _asked_ to (even if she did turn a deaf ear to any hints at refusal), instead of deciding for me. So Tori stayed back while I pulled the extra key from my pocket, casually leaning against the railing, though I could almost hear her eyes roll when I remembered my manners and knocked instead. Barging in when my boyfriend _was _there was pushing it already – so when it's just his dad? Uh, awkward.

While it only took Mr. Bae a few seconds to opening the door, the wait felt like a long one. Tori rocked on her heels, soles cracking against the cement, hands deep in her pockets, and I knew she _wanted_ to say something... but she didn't. Which was odd for Tori, because Miss Congeniality she was not. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how I looked at it, Mr. Bae ushered us in before I could muster up the courage to ask what was up, apologizing profusely for making us wait.

As quickly as he had directed us in, Mr. Bae took his time shutting the door, caution superseding courtesy. I certainly wasn't offended. Our motel was located on the far end of a little cluster of stores and one restaurant, and Mr. Bae had scouted before renting the rooms, choosing the two that were closest to the parking lot and farthest from the small-town hotspots. As lovely as I'm sure the rolling dumpsters and flickering MOTEL sign were, I knew he wasn't appreciating the sights.

Tori plopped down on the edge of the first mattress, the bed barely dipping under her weight. I took the floor beneath it and beside her. Tempting as it was to make myself comfortable on Derek's bed, there were two very major problems with it at this point in time. One, his dad was in the room. Two? _Derek_ wasn't. If the first didn't suck any ideas out of my head, the second one did. Kind of a killjoy when your only make-out options were a pillow and your boyfriend's dad. Gross much?

Mr. Bae was oblivious to my teenage hormones and thoughts regarding his son, thank God. His hands hesitated at the lock, weighing the pros and cons of the additional security, before deciding against it. I tried to ignore his eyes, shadowed by pale, purple crescents of worry and exhaustion, as he turned to us. "Girls? Is everything okay? Where are Simon and Derek?" As he strode towards the second bed – his and Simon's, most likely – I blinked, processing this inquiry. What…?

"_Oh!_ Um, they're fine. Well, I think they are." I saw the flicker in his eyes and hastily amended my statement, "I mean, they're in the lobby. Or were... last I checked..." Okay, talk about making it worse. I was about to further attempt placating his misplaced, while not unfounded, fears, when Tori intervened. I jumped slightly, knocking against her left leg in the process, having totally forgotten her presence there.

"They're fine. Simon's trying to pick the lock on the snack machine and Derek's acting as his guard dog... like usual." I glared halfheartedly. She ignored me and continued with a vague wave my direction, "Chloe wants to call her dad. Tell him to revoke the 'bounty'." Not exactly the way I would have put it, but it worked. I peered over the edge of the bed and flashed Tori an appreciative smile, also halfhearted, as if I couldn't decide whether I wanted to hit her for the jibe at Derek or hug her for backing me up.

Mr. Bae lowered himself onto his protesting bed, absently scratching his bare upper arms. It was only then that I noticed the towel around his neck, and his choice in shirts... or lack thereof. Well, if I'd had any doubts about whether or not he was the one who taught Derek to fight like a brawler, they were gone now. With the flashback of Tori eying my boyfriend back at the safe house replaying in my head, I sincerely prayed to whatever deities listing that Tori hadn't, didn't, and wouldn't check out her dad accidentally. Mental shudder.

Mr. Bae exhaled loudly, but otherwise was silent. I fidgeted on the ground and Tori waited for him to speak, collected as ever. The clock ticked away what felt like hours. I was beginning to wonder whether he intended to respond when he arose, faded green sweatpants shuffling slightly, striding further into the room. With a thoughtless toss of the towel, and a second _scratch, scratch, scratch_ of his arm, he slipped on a t-shirt from an ajar drawer. Derek's, judging by the sheer size of it, and it fit him just as it had his son – horribly. He didn't seem to care. Typical guy. Then, he turned. And with the expected change in appearance came an unexpected change of personality.

"I'm sorry, Chloe, but you can't." Even Tori seemed appropriately shocked by the resolution in his voice, as if he were daring me to claim otherwise. First anger struck me, then defiance. Hesitant defiance, to be sure, but I wasn't going down without a fight. He wanted one? He'd get one.

I stood instinctively, hands balled tightly into fists as my five-foot-nothing was dwarfed by his towering figure. My first retort was the ever popular 'That's not fair!' line. When I realized that this wouldn't work, not if I wanted him to take me seriously, I replied a tiny bit angrily, "He deserves to know. Didn't _you_ worry about Simon and Derek when you were separated from them?"

The stoic facade cracked slightly, revealing the father beneath. Then he shook his head, and all traces of it vanished. His words were deceptively calm. "Of course I did, Chloe. But this is different –"

"How is this different? He's as much my dad as you are Simon's. Even more than you are Derek's, since at least _we're_ blood!" I winced, guilt swelling. That was hitting below the belt and we both knew it. Mr. Bae looked caught between furious defense of his sons – one of whom was my boyfriend, my double-crossing mind reminded me – and continuing his adamant refusal, backed by well-thought out logic and facts. None of which would have worked on me at this point, I might add.

I didn't get the chance to find out which he chose... or if he chose either at all. Tori stepped between us, and for a fleeting moment I believed _she_ was going to act as the mediator, as the peacemaker, but then she wheeled on Mr. Bae and unleashed all the pent-up rage from her own parents' betrayal.

"She's his _daughter_. You may not have one of those, but it's the pretty much the same concept as a son, _Kit_. The only difference between your family and his, is when she's gone, he doesn't _have_ anyone else." Tori stalked out, all but saying anything Mr. Bae could have said in response wouldn't have been enough.

We both stared after her for a long minute. Then Mr. Bae groaned, sinking into the mattress with a rub of his forehead. He used the same motion to rake his fingers through his hair, gaze averted to buy him some time. When he finally looked up, the resolute sorcerer was nowhere to be seen. Instead, I saw an expression I recognized well – the very same one Tori had worn that day at the factory after her dad ratted her out. And then I knew. I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt, with one hundred percent certainty, that the resemblance was too strong to be a coincidence. Victoria Enright was Kit Bae's daughter.

His hand fell and intertwined with the other in a crisscross pattern, thumbs resting side by side. I could tell he was choosing his words carefully.

"Listen, Chloe." I listened. His gaze dropped for a split second. "He's... he's human. You can't –" Wrong choice.

I followed in Tori's footsteps, reveling in the tiny bit of satisfaction my defiance brought before anything could sink in. The door slammed shut behind me, shaking the frame-affixed lamp as paint chips shimmered like fireflies descending in the darkness. Then I collapsed again the railing, ready to sob my heart out, when a shadow dropped onto the rusted bars beside me. Tori. I quickly diverted my gaze to the flashing, flickering MOTEL parking lot sign - _red, blue, green, red, blue, green, red, blue, green_... and as the hypnotic lights lulled me into the deepest recesses of my mind, questions I'd tried so hard to avoid began cropping up, piece by piece, as if laying a jigsaw puzzle before me. One father abandoned, one father found, one father turned traitor. All mothers presumably dead. The strings of fate never end, do they? All connected to one another.

Tori, being Tori, didn't give me enough time to pursue that thought process, barely enough to gather myself before she pushed off the railing and wandered in the general direction of our room, the slap of her sneakers against cement amplified by the limited small-town noises. I wonder if I would have if she'd waited a little longer. Probably not.

I watched her go, somewhat let down by being left for my thoughts to consume me whole. Then, at the stairs, she stopped and cast me a look I didn't catch over her shoulder. "What the hell are you waiting for?" she asked, tone snappishly impatient. Ah, Tori. "The payphone is this way. Move it!"

* * *

To be continued... soon. Hopefully. Please point out any errors, choppiness, OOC-ness, or whatever else you see. And review if you could... umm, again, please. xD

... Lapse


	2. For Want of a Nail, Part Two

**AN:** Consider this part two of chapter one. I don't like the idea that one chapter barely contains any development, but I feel awkward writing long chapters. This is better suited as part II than chapter two anyway, because the most important paragraph (containing Chloe's thoughts of each of her companions, one per chapter until all are done) didn't work well with it.

(...)

Now for the _real_ author's note. This is **not** the same motel as the one they were in at the end of The Reckoning. They've been moving around every few days, not staying in one place for several different reasons, which will be elaborated upon later on.

And with that, I'd like to conclude this extensive note with gratitude for my reviewers, favoriters, and alerters. You guys are great. :)

* * *

**LAST RAYS OF THE SUN**

a

_Darkest Powers_

fanfiction

by

**Lapse**

_An unspoken law in the supernatural world: never make a deal with the devil. Well, I hadn't, but I'm pretty sure I did the next best – er, worst – thing. / Deviates from canon after the end of The Reckoning. Women of the Otherworld crossover._

* * *

**Chapter One**

For Want of A Nail, Part Two

The only payphone within walking distance was in the first parking lot, east of the motel's lobby and opposite of where we were now. Inconvenient, yeah, but I guess small-towns don't really concern themselves with the matter of symmetry these days. Tori had steered us around the front doors, at least a twenty-foot girth in between, and kept to the shadows cast by the setting sun. It's a sad day when a girl has to start taking extensive measures to avoid the guy she's crazy for. A really, _really_ sad day. And I'd bet the girl wasn't much of a happy camper either.

"Please tell me we're almost there. And that it's a phone-_booth_." I whispered to my temporary partner-in-crime, shivering as the late October chill bit through my cotton tee. I swear, the _one_ day I choose to forgo the coat...

"Shit outta luck, Saunders. No booth and another sixty feet or so of wolf-boy's super-sniffer to go." I let the jibe slide for the time being, too busy conserving warmth. Being small seriously sucks. Not that I'm jealous of big girls, but weighing so little means minimal natural insulation. I dreaded the remainder of the walk.

Now, sixty feet might not seem like all that much. But, as Tori might've hinted, we had to avoid virtually any Chloe-like sounds, scents, or sights, lest we incur the wrath of my overprotective boyfriend... and consequentially, his overcautious dad, who would be none too pleased to find that we were going against his wishes. Sometimes I feel for Jafar. Being confined to lamp for eternity, no choice but to grant the selfish desires of those who temporarily release you from your cell... not my ideal lifestyle, that's for sure.

I cringed as a blast of icy air blew hit us head on. In all honesty, if I weren't so determined to get back at Mr. Bae, I'd probably have given up by now. It took _five minutes_ to travel _half_ the distance to the phone, which was now within my range of sight. Tori and I were just preparing for another ten-foot sprint when she halted her movements entirely, going rigid. I nearly tipped over preventing myself from ramming into her back. My first guess upon recovery had me glancing at the front of the lobby; I frowned. No Derek barreling through the doors. In fact, if I squinted, I could still see Simon's crouching form in the bright window, ducking out of the way every so often, meaning if Derek _had_ caught whiff of us, he hadn't alerted Simon.

"I..." Tori shook her head. "Sorry. The cold is getting to me." She made the sprint before I could voice any concerns – most of which were caused by the fact that she was apologizing. "Well, okay then," I muttered, and scrambled to match her long strides. With that, we entered the first parking lot.

According to Mr. Bae, there were three parking lots encompassing the motel. The first was the only one both directly accessible by the road and owned by the motel, and it was one-fourth the size of the second lot, always jam packed with cars older than I was. Derek suspected it served two purposes; employee parking and the false implication that there were no vacancies. A clever way to keep the more whimsical travelers out of their town, but that was a problem that could've been easily remedied by never building a motel in the first place.

The second parking lot was hidden within the complex, requiring additional driving around a bend and through a gate. The MOTEL sign faced inward, flashing lights only visible to the tenants. I'd briefly questioned the logic behind that decision, but I couldn't be bothered to dwell on the matter. The third parking lot belonged to a Seven Eleven/Quizno's combo, confirmed by Derek's first stop when we arrived yesterday afternoon.

There was only one payphone on the property, and that was near the front of the hotel, parking lot numero uno. It was barely half a yard from us when Tori froze again. This time, she whipped her head around, gaze focused on where I assumed the bend was, and cursed loudly. It took me a second dissect the growl, still not quite accustomed to profane creativity, and by the time I had we were already sprinting for the phone.

"W-w-what...?"

"Perimeter spell," she hissed, releasing my arm from her death-grip to search her pockets. I rubbed it absently, studying her expression in the fading light, and fumbled to successfully catch the quarter when she flicked it my way. "That_ bastard_... I should've expected... Goddammit!" The phone's frame groaned under the weight of her punch, a groaning thud that resonated throughout the near silent lot. I shot a purposeful look in the direction of the lobby and suggested she move leg-length away. She ignored my advice. "Hurry. Call your dad before he gets here."

"But -"

"If you say you want to chicken out now, I'll zap you. You know I will. So don't you tempt me, Chloe Saunders." I was dialing my dad's number before the threat was finished.

Three rings later, a particularly long string of profanity had my attention swiveling to its most recently popular source: Tori. _Her_ attention was elsewhere, presumably on something that shouldn't be in the darkening parking lot, jaw set. I fingered the black plastic of the phone as it rang, loud in my ear, and warily looked out that way, Where's Waldo tips surfacing from old memories of long hours searching for the striped sweater clad man with my mom. I swallowed and clutched the phone just a little tighter.

Tori's night vision was obviously better than mine. Or she'd cast a spell, though I really kind of doubted the likelihood of that; Derek, after a great deal of thought and probably secret researching, had deduced that Tori's innate spell comprehension was applicable only to those she could see. Sense-related and psychological spells required just as much work for her as they did for Simon, and while it _was_ possible she'd learned one well enough to cast it, I highly doubted this was the case. In truth, Tori had the uncanny ability to see problems as they'd arise... she just normally chose to ignore it.

Since it wasn't Tori's style to make matters simpler, I'd just have to put up with her dramatically ambiguous muttered oaths until I got it on my own. Meaning, for the time being, I'd just have to trust her. Which was fine with me... more or less. Whatever the problem was, it obviously couldn't have been dangerous. Tori wouldn't have stuck around if it was, and that narrowed down the possibilities by... well, a lot.

Eighteen rings. Out of nowhere, Tori went from pacing to breaking into a jog, startling me as she passed. Danger detected, I thought, but when she stopped a couple steps from the lobby, barely visible in her black turtleneck and jeans, I almost took it back. Sparks danced dangerously from her fingertips, like the waltz of hell.

"It's her choice, not yours," she said firmly, and for a moment I thought she'd lost it. The ringing continued, number twenty-three. Twenty-four, twenty-five. Then, "No means no, girls. Hang up, Chloe." Twenty-seven, twenty-eight – _does he have voicemail?_ "Now." As if I hadn't caught the demand the first time.

"No." If I wasn't going to listen to you inside, why would I listen to you now, seconds from my goal, what I'd lost countless nights of sleep over?

Thirty-one. Another voice, this one much less manly and far more gentle. "Please, Chloe, it was my mistake to agree to -"

"_Hello?"_ It took me a moment to realize that the furious greeting wasn't from Mr. Bae. The phone had stopped ringing. I peered into the darkness Tori had willingly entered, tongue twisting as I struggled with the speech I'd rehearsed so many times. _"Hello?"_ I didn't understand – dad, I thought, dad... why are you mad at me? Do you know that I'm a... I'm a – _"You kids need to learn some goddamn manners... just because my number is circulating doesn't mean you can call without reprimand."_ A sigh, the shuffling of papers. Faintly, I heard Mr. Bae cursing as a cascade of sparks rained upon them, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Fury gone, nothing more than weariness now._ "Just leave me be, kid. I have my own child to worry about." _Your own child to –?

"D-dad?" A pause. The line crackled. _"... Chloe? Is that – is it really –"_ the words jumbled together. My heart tripping in my ears. Tori said something, waving her hand at Aunt Lauren and Mr. Bae, a hiss that sent shivers up my spine as I my dad stumbled over his words. _"- you?"_

I had a thousand and one things to say, 'dad, I miss you so much', 'dad, how are you?', 'dad, I'm not crazy, I see dead people, not hallucinations –' "Yeah." I nodded, even though he couldn't see me.

Dad started babbling, incoherent with relieved surprise. Still listening, words engraving themselves in my memory, all the nonsensical pleasantries and heart-wrenching fatherly murmurs something I'd never forget, hear in my sleep for years to come. I dared a peek back at the scene unraveling nearby. Tori, hands spread in front of her, pale skin glowing under the rising moon and pulse of electricity at her fingers, just strong enough to give me a good look at their defining features. Mr. Bae, eyes spilling over with disappointment and rage born from our defiance. Aunt Lauren, an uncharacteristic look of the same sort on her face. The doors to the front lobby opened, and Tori's attention snapped that way, right hand raised for a knockback spell. Probably an employee, human and little more than curious about the light show going on outside. Still, I made no move to stop her. The director in me, prepared to see the action scene play out even though the stunt doubles hadn't arrived yet.

"_Are you... okay? Safe?"_ He was dodging the real question, postponing for as long as he could. If he'd honestly thought I was in any real danger, he'd have already asked. Meaning he fully believed the run-away story... or that I'd say something if there _was_ any danger. He was my dad, my protector. The man who scared off the bogey men under my bed and walked me to school until I was ready to do so on my own after mom was gone. Of course he'd think that. But there were some things he'd never be able to protect me from. Some things that even the best security system or neighborhood or anything else he could offer wouldn't stop. And here I was, pulling my powerless, human father into a mess that wasn't his to clean up, never was and never _could_ be.

"I am." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. Even still, the dishonesty stung, but I knew deep down it was for the best, because, well, it was exactly the opposite of what I'd wanted to say - _planned_ to say - since I left the Lyle House.

I caught sight of the duo emerging from the lobby, little more than linear shapes defined by the light from inside. I knew instantly who they were – unmistakably. Simon. Derek. His eyes, that radioactive green, met mine. Worried in general and angry because his dad was angry, but confused more than anything else. He'd heard some of the conversation, had managed to put two and two together; enough to make sense of the phone I clutched like a lifeline, but clearly not enough to comprehend the Tori versus the adults situation. He murmured something low to Simon, who had looked as though he was on the verge of trying out his new secret spell (only secret to the girls) on Tori, although Derek's eyes never left mine to check if his words had the desired effect on his younger brother. They would. Simon took a moment, then eased the doors shut, pooling light vanishing in the process. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the suddenly darker blackness of the night, and distantly wondered just when the sun had set.

A yelp. I heard it better than I saw it, my eyes having never left Derek's, nightfall hindering all other vision. A dark figure running at Tori, feinting around her and tackling her to the ground when she cast her knockback spell in the wrong direction. Simon's laughter livening the otherwise dead lot, followed by a sobered, arrogant, "and who said that those fighting lessons were useless?"

"Fuck _off_," Tori grumbled, but made no obvious – or visible, at least – attempt at escape beyond that.

"_Chloe? Chloe? Are you there, baby girl? Please don't tell me I lost you –"_

"Y-yeah! Yeah, sorry, just a little, um, distracted." Another pause. My eyes finished their reluctant adjustment, and I could see Mr. Bae and Aunt Lauren approaching, the latter of the two soon prevented by my boyfriend, our gazes still locked. His eyes practically glowed, alight with such intensity that I felt my Incredibly Important Call slipping from my thoughts. The connotation of that only hit me when Mr. Bae stepped in the way of Derek, barely a yard from me, arms crossed in that adult manner that said enough was enough.

"Answer your father, Chloe," he said, voice firm. That stoic facade again. This time, I didn't fight it. He slipped out of my way then, but I didn't risk getting lost in Derek's eyes a second time... cheesy as that sounded. I had to do this right. And so, having no idea what my father asked (I later wondered how Mr. Bae _did_), I took a shot in the dark, insisting that I was fine. He asked me if I was _absolutely_ sure, worry drenching his voice now, masking his exhaustion. I stared down at my Converses as I genuinely considered it for a moment, wanting to answer him honestly just once, and thought of the group I now lived with. I _was_ fine, definitely not in the way he would've wanted, but for _this_ life, _this_ Chloe, the necromancer whose aura was wildly bright, whose enemies were all of the world but five, this was fine enough.

"Yeah." We were both silent for a minute. Then I said, "I'm sorry, daddy." And I was. Very.

"_... For what?"_ I tried my best to ignore the worry, the exhaustion, the... _love_ in his voice, but I still hesitated, response at the tip of my tongue, a consolation I couldn't afford. I tilted my head to the side, just enough to see the others in my peripheral vision. Derek's penetrating green eyes provided all the resolve I lacked.

"I – I'm not coming back."

I pressed the phone onto its hook before he could protest. A gust of cold swept through, and I shuddered.

* * *

Umm... please review? Constructive criticism is also welcome. :) Some things here might seem very plot-holey, but they're not. You'll see... mwuahaha. x)

Like last time, expect corrections to be made over the course of a few days. I notice errors better under pressure, as pathetic as that may seem.

... Lapse


	3. Where Angels Fear to Tread

**AN:** As we all know, numbers are not my thing. Concerning the three months-late update... umm, apparently neither is promptness. But guilt is. Yup. Super guilty here.

Especially when I say this: no part II until I reread **both** series (see pluralization frustrations in chapter one, part II). Which will take a while with everything else going on. Sigh... I'm a bad person. I really am. Bad Genna. -squirts self with water bottle-

**NOTIFICATIONS**

**13 May 2012:** Well, crap. I've just posted the first chapter of Beneath the Fading Stars, and decided to come back and reread LRotS... I actually prefer my writing style here. I'll definitely be using it more in the future. Damn it.

* * *

**LAST RAYS OF THE SUN**

a

_Darkest Powers_

fanfiction

by

**Lapse**

_An unspoken law in the supernatural world: never make a deal with the devil. Well, I hadn't, but I'm pretty sure I did the next best – er, worst – thing. / Deviates from canon after the end of The Reckoning. Women of the Otherworld crossover._

* * *

**I, 199X**

January. Good God, I hated Januaries in Buffalo. There was something about the post-holidays silence that hung in the air, plaguing you each and every breath with a feeling reminiscent of swallowing glass, that never sat well with me. But I was probably biased - I'd always been a Miami girl, preferring basking in the warm glow of the sun as icy waves lapped at my ankles over bundling up in jackets that emphasized curves in _all_ the wrong places.

Miami was not a good place for me to be now, because for the first time in my life, one of those curves was natural. Okay, so it wasn't exactly huge, well concealed by the general lumpiness of my many layers of clothing, but it was _there_. And Hell if I wasn't flaunting it everywhere I went, nearly failing to maintain composure when sharper eyes lingered a little longer than in polite acknowledgment. Yeah, maybe they just thought I was overweight, but a single once-over and they would quickly correct their mistake. Congratulations murmured in passing only fed my growing ego, but, hey, I _was_ feeding for two.

Steve did not share my sentiments. If anything, he seemed apprehensive. Now, normally, he was good at hiding things; his emotions, his thoughts on touchy subjects, money on Black Friday... but these days, the man beneath the armor was showing through. Perhaps he didn't suit up properly, perhaps the metal was finally wearing down with age. I didn't know. What I _did_ know, though, was that it wasn't just my pregnancy that worried him. A newly wed couple living in a one-room apartment? Not the most agreeable of situations, but they'll survive. But for a working class family of three, one of whom would be out of commission for at least a year, another of whom would require serious care, this posed the most serious threat any man could face. Pride.

One of the few things that stood out about Steve when I met him was his protective nature, the questionable quality any decent man should have. Questionable because sometimes that protectiveness border-lined obsessiveness. Steve wasn't like that, thank God, though I can't honestly say that he didn't have his moments. His Mother Hen attitude towards things was generally amusing, but on the rare occasion it went a lot deeper than concern for his loved ones. Sometimes, his pride was at stake, and as many men foolishly do, he believed that pride was a thing to be guarded incessantly. In other words... obsessively.

His protective nature saved our asses more than it bit them. This time, though, it was a pride/protection hybrid, blinded by the birthright that is the Code of Man. We took their rib and received woman's intuition. They lost additional protection and got stuck with _that_. But hey, at least the sex is great.

When I revealed the big surprise to him, his initial reaction wasn't joy – it was brow-knitting confusion, and for the briefest of moments an age old fear resurfaced. _What did he know?_ For the two years we'd been together, I was adamant about _not_ having a child... despite how much we both knew I wanted one. He'd inquire about it, taking advantage of the haze of contentment that overwhelmed me after... activities, but the warning-bells were always active. Do not speak the truth, they said. So I lied.

I'd tell him that yes, it was my genetics I was worried about, but substituted a family history of miscarriages as my reason instead of a family history of necromancy. The former garners more sympathy than the latter does, I've learned.

Steve accepted my explanation without question, though that isn't to say he didn't prod for further details. He didn't thirst for knowledge – he thirsted for intimacy. Everything I was, he wanted... but there are some things that I would never, _could_ never, give him, because _he_ was my everything. The me before I met him never wanted a child. The me before him knew the dangers. But then he showed up, eyes bluer than the freedom of the skies, and I was changed. I didn't want to have a baby with any man. Only him. His baby. Our baby.

I sought for a way to save my theoretical child from the curse of my blood, but I found none. It was a surefire that any and all children I had would be born with it – so how could I give such a horrible life to an innocent? My twin brother was dead. Necromancer or not, he would remain dead, and that was a hole that nothing would ever fill. I couldn't bear to lose my child the same way.

But God, oh, _God_, I wanted a family with Steve. I wanted something that was truly ours, a symbol of our love, forever embodied in the life of another. It was my goal, my dream, my quest, and one that seemed so out of reach that I would never see it come to be. Then I met that man, through the friend of a second-cousin. Average looking with a forgettable face, scant inches taller than myself with a weight better suited for someone a foot above us, he introduced himself as Todd Banks, and told me his plan.

I smiled at the memory, burrowing further into my jacket as I did. A child that wouldn't need to face the horrors my brother had. My gratitude towards Todd Banks was immortal.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Where Angels Fear to Tread, Part One

In a way, Tori should have been credited for my next revelation. Those two weeks of her faltering hatred for me brought it to my attention, after all, but crediting her for it would be unfair - the source of my revelation... I hated it. Hated, hated, _hated _it with every part of my being, because it went beyond cruel and sick. I mean, I know that our stories are already beyond cruel and sick. All our parents... all our parents gave us up for experimentation. Yet apart from Tori's mom, they all regretted it. And they'd been doing it for us in the first place. To help us. When it failed... So many of them lost their lives trying to make amends. So many people _dead_...

Straying thoughts. Clear your mind, as Derek would say. Focus. Right, focus.

I knew Mr. Bae was also trying to make amends the best way he knew how. He came to our aid and gave us shelter. Protected us, even if it meant hurting us. Eventually I understood that, but I never accepted it. How could I?

Growing up the way I had, shelter was a given. Protection came in the form of a good neighborhood filled with good people; the kind of people who wouldn't let their blinds down when a robbery was happening outside their window, the kind of people with genuine concern in their voices when you took a fall and got a scraped knee. Growing up the way I had... I was safe, but only on the human level. I sometimes wonder if my parents would have done the same thing as Mr. Bae, had they known what we really faced...

No. Some steps should never be taken. It doesn't matter how much protection they would provide, how much you loved that person. The threshold of the gods is for the gods; trespass not, think not. The same for the realm of demons. I wasn't an expert, but I knew a transgression when I saw one.

The sins of a father are not his son's burden to bear. But what can you do, when the son _is_ the sin?

Never repent. He wronged Simon in a way that couldn't have ever been forgiven anyway.

Tori and I had maintained a fairly successful dual cold-shoulder towards anyone who approached for all of half an hour before Simon sauntered in and made himself at home on one of the motel beds. At first we tried ignoring him, but that was a futile tactic if I ever saw one; you do not "ignore" Simon. It is impossibly pointless to attempt, and generally results in catastrophic circumstances that are _really_ hard to explain.

This in mind, I settled on a one-sided compromise. I carefully began unpacking my bag, setting casual wear to the side and unmentionables behind them. Simon didn't need an eyeful of those... and while Tori had been forced to conform to uniform Wal-mart panties by Aunt Lauren, I'd seen enough of her preferred... uh, _fabrics_ to still be embarrassed. No details needed there, I hope.

"Why do girls always have to be so organized?" Simon pondered aloud. I resisted the temptation to respond because that was exactly what he wanted and plucked the gadget from my backpack, fingers flicking over the power button. Nothing happened. As a frown flitted across my face, I glanced over in Tori's direction, where she sat on the other bed, finishing up. "Do you have any spare batteries?" She shrugged. "Hell if I know. Check my backpack. Left side, front pocket. If there are any, they'll be in the pouch there."

"And I _repeat_, why are girls so organized? It's _weird_." My hand twitched and before I knew it, my favorite red shirt was sailing over my shoulder. Whoopsie.

"Never mind," I muttered, "guess I won't be needing those batteries after all." The iPod stereo fell back into my bag, and I took a couple calming breaths before turning to face Simon. Needless to say, it took all my willpower and then some.

Simon's relative composure was relaxed and carefree, a stark contrast to my own. He was sprawled out on the bed Tori and I shared, chin resting on his arms, grinning widely. In one hand, barely visible, was my shirt. I'm not really one for profanity, but, well... Crap. "Y_e-essss_?" Derek would not appreciate the immediate wolf in sheep's clothing comparison I had.

"Give it." Without waiting for a reply, I stomped over and glowered down at him. His grin widened. I swear, sometimes he's like an older brother. Pesky, obnoxious, and more than willing to step into the lion's den if it meant placating the lion. Hoping for the best and expecting the worst, I reached to snatch the shirt from him, but he rolled to the far side of the mattress. Cheater.

"Nu-uh. Finders keepers. This," Simon hopped off the bed, brandished my red shirt and stretched it in front of him, "is _mine._ It'll look good, don't you think?" He fluttered his eyelashes and did a little twirl. I was not openly amused.

"Oh, definitely. It'll look lovely with the new blood smear you're about to have across your face. _Give_ it!"And very similar to what I imagined an older brother would do, Simon feigned thought. I gave him approximately ten seconds before I made to grab it again. No luck. Stupid tall people.

"You want it?"

"_Yes_."

"Okay," and Simon, being Simon... "Reach for the _sky_!" Up my shirt went, well beyond my reach. I put all my rage into a single glare at him, despite knowing that I looked more like a disgruntled kitten than a ferocious lion. Where was my super tall boyfriend (who doubled as Simon's older brother, bonus) when I needed him?

"What? No appreciation for a childhood favorite?" He asked in mock horror. I tried for a harsher glare. Simon just raised an eyebrow and said, "Nope. Not working."

"_Simon_!"

"Jump," he demanded. I deadpanned. How original. "How high?" That threw him off. Obviously he hadn't expected any form of submission_,_ but I was seriously trying to remain upset with the world and he wasn't helping any.

Before he could begin the witty retort he no doubt had on the tip of his tongue, the shirt vanished from his grasp. We both turned to see Tori, article in hand and glower set in place. "We're on a time limit. _Shoo,_" she said, waving her hand more impatiently than dismissively. Well, at least one of us had the ferocious lion look down. Simon still seemed relatively unfazed, though it was hard to miss the poorly concealed pout.

Tori's free hand raised for a knockback spell. Simon raised his own in surrender. "Fine, fine. I'm leaving." And as if to verify the credibility of this statement, he kept his hands raised and retreated, still facing us, a look of defeat spread across his face, only failing to mask the mirth in his eyes. I resisted an eye-roll; Tori didn't.

His fingers ghosted the door handle before he spoke again, question clearly intended for me. "Want a snack?"

I hesitated, searching his face. It was devoid of any ulterior motives, but I was still suspicious. Was this another scheme to cheer me up? If it was... well, Tori _had_ been telling the truth; we _were _on a time limit, and a quick glance at the clock confirmed my suspicions. We'd have to deal everyone soon enough, so maybe an ally wouldn't be _too_ bad to have... "Depends. What is there?"

The grin returned full force. "Anything you want."

Liz made her appearance as Tori and I were locking up the room. She took one look at the bags over our shoulders and said, "Leaving so soon?" I translated this as 'It took forever to _find you,_ now you're gonna make me do it _again_?' Thankfully, this was my recently acquired cynicism speaking. Liz was all perk and no snark, which was a nice change from Tori's hiss-and-purr routine, but I'd grown accustomed to the temperament of a slightly off-kilter teenage girl whose best qualities were also her most dangerous. Looking for barb-wired compliments or double meanings was a good way to stay alive - both with my companions _and_ with my enemies.

I know, unfair assessment. Automatically assuming the worst in people was a trait I'd acquired over the past month—a justifiable one, but cynicism was an insensitive outlook for someone in my position to have. There were genuinely kind people out there who wanted to help, if few, and Liz was one of them. I knew that.

"Yeah. There were, uh, problems." Darkness had completely fallen during the time it took to pack our bags, the only light source we had coming from a glowing ball levitating in front of us. Tori's spells were handier than I originally deemed them.

After showing her the spell, Mr. Bae had admitted, with great reluctance, that it was witch magic, one of the two main "classes" of spells – primarily defensive, according to him, though some minor offensive spells did exist. Sorcerer magic lacked in basic defense, but was heavily armed offensively; both were usable by sorcerers and witches alike, though the class responded better to its respective race. For Tori, I suspected that this rule did not apply – being the daughter of two spellcasters should affect her _somehow_, and this was the least frightening of any of the ways I could think up.

"Problems?" Echoed Liz, translucent form flickering as she pondered the various problems we could have encountered.

"It's... complicated. Well, not complicated, but..." Derek was probably listening to my technically one-sided conversation, and I'd have to give him details later (there were definitely some that I wanted to leave out), so I really was trying to avoid the topic for the time being. It still kind of stung, honestly.

"Oh." Liz pondered it some more, staring out into the mostly vacant lot. Then she turned back to me, and leaned against the definitely solid railing (it still bothered me that she could do that). "Can I ask you a couple quick questions?"

I bent over the railing, squinting to see the lot below us, mentally calculating. After several seconds of agonizing math, I turned to where I'd thought Tori stood. "I've gotta use the restroom. Can you tell them to wait five minu- … uhhh. Tori?" No where to be seen was the off-kilter teenage witch. I started to panic, whirling in a circle like a lunatic and dizzying myself looking for the magic flashlight that would reveal her whereabouts. Then I heard the groan of the weary stairs that descended from the end of the balcony-path thing, and saw the light ball's reflection on the metal frame.

Hadn't Tori noticed that I stopped? Or was she giving us privacy? No, I thought immediately, definitely not. Not even for Liz. Something was up, and I had a sneaking suspicion that it was a very prominent something in the day's events.

I braced myself against the railing for a brief vertigo shift, then raced to catch up with her, promising to answer what I could for Liz before we left. Liz murmured her consent and vanished from my sight, but I didn't doubt her presence. It was likely that she was watching from whatever realms lay beyond this one, where the window only provided a view of the "outsiders", not what lurked within.

I saw Derek storming from the shadows just as I reached the bottom of the stairs. I made the universal gesture for "okay" and checked my pace, hoping to console the already jittery werewolf. Tori's own pace was slow and her direction vague; I was glad I hadn't raised any more commotion by calling out for her.

Derek arrived at the scene only seconds after I did, but neither of us said anything. This was one case where he'd wait for me to act first. His defining personality trait was brutal honesty, after all; he was ruder than he was polite, but even he'd noticed the rapid mood changes Tori was suffering. And I knew then that I wasn't the only one who thought that it was somehow connected to her unique abilities.

We shared a look before I tapped the witch on the shoulder, not really expecting a reaction but still bothered by the lack thereof. Well, at least she stopped. I tapped her shoulder again, this time a little harder, and called her name gently. No response.

Derek shifted, irritation visibly showing on his face. He waited a couple of nanoseconds before leaning over to me and whispering, "Simon's waiting, Chloe. With _food_." That probably would have been offending a month ago, but I brushed it off easily. Derek's werewolf metabolism meant that he was hungry more often than not. It was the ultimate form of punishment to keep him from food when he wanted it, but maybe I could use this to both our advantages... both meaning mine and Tori's, that is.

I smacked him on the arm. "Friends before food. Bad Derek." He scowled, clearly not appreciating the dog joke. I could feel my spirits lifting, the cynicism slinking back to its dark corner in my mind. Just his presence could do that nowadays...

"Sorry," I said insincerely, raising my voice a notch. I watched Tori for any reaction as I continued, "Tori's sarcasm is rubbing off on me." A pause. "And maybe a little of Simon's, too."

Derek blinked at this very not-Chloe apology. I gave him a hard look and he blinked again, as if what I was doing was slowly dawning on him. And here I thought geniuses were supposed to be _smart._

"I don't think it's sarcasm with Simon, Chloe. It's insanity, and yes, it's contagious. _Please_ don't catch it."

"Well... that might not be possible. I'm pretty sure I was the host."

"Then please don't infect _me_. I represent a minor faction that needs all the members it can get, you know."

"And what if you were_ already_ infected, hmm?"

"Then the kingdom is lost," came a suitably solemn and despairing voice from somewhere behind us. I sputtered a surprised laugh when an arm looped around my waist and took a moment to adjust, then blinked owlishly up at the chin of my boyfriend's brother. Said boyfriend growled unappreciatively and maybe just a bit protectively.

Simon waggled three Snickers at him. Derek shut up.

I gaped, reaching out to smack him again. Simon tugged me backwards, out of reach. "You did _not_ just trade me off for chocolate."

"No," said Simon, resting his chin on my head and poking my side when I moved it, "he traded you off for three deliciously delectable bars of peanuts and caramel enrobed in milk chocolate, my dear Chloe. It is a perfectly fair trade." His breath tickled my neck when he laughed. Derek snorted as he tore into the bars... all three at once. Ugh, guys. I really am glad that I can't see the finer details of _that._

"Enrobed? If you're bored enough to read a dictionary, Simon, just tell me. I picked up a book about Schroedinger's Cat a while back, and..."

I imagined that horror crossed Simon's face, a look of pure, completely realistic horror. If I ever did get the chance to direct a movie, I knew who would be my leading actor. "No, no! Please, not that! No science! No math! No educational reading for the better of mankind, please!"

"Then release the medium." He weighed his options, taking the chance to properly chew (or vice versa. It was _Derek_, after all). "And the bag of Lays you have in your pocket, too."

"But those are for Chloe! How can I whisk her away from the big bad wolf if I don't have my basket of Lays?"

_What?_ "Uh... did you ever _read_ Little Red Riding Hood, Simon?" He jabbed my side with a finger again and I wisely closed my mouth, instead opting to see whether the (random) banter had its intended effect. Tori hadn't budged, her eyes scouring the lot for something that wasn't there, something that probably wasn't in the realm she could see. I followed her line of sight and found nothing, then I tried again on the more spiritual level, tuning out Derek and Simon, who'd either become awfully serious about their conversation or an excellent pair of potential actors. No ghosts nudging my subconscious. No demons whispering promises of wealth and power in return for my services. Nothing.

_Maybe it's not in the realm you can see, either._

Maybe. Or maybe I'm just trying to excuse my own incompetence as a necromancer.

I was tempted to ask Derek to take a look around, but I knew he was already on high alert. Nothing physical would get by him... during the day, at least. In human form, werewolves have great general vision, but I often forgot their night vision sucks. It wasn't a comforting thought.

I pried Simon's arm from around my waist and pushed his chin off my shoulder. He whined a little in response, but both he and Derek fell silent when I stepped in front of Tori, looking up at her face. She didn't meet my eyes, and Simon sighed, slouching back to stare at the night sky. Derek murmured something under his breath, and Simon dipped his chin in agreement.

"We're gonna go ahead, okay? Just call out if you need us," Derek said gruffly. With that, the easy-going atmosphere of only seconds before completely dissipated.

I nodded. "Okay. Just give us a minute. If we take any longer than five, come pick us up." As an afterthought, I added, "and _don't_ give Derek my Lays, Simon. Or I will shun you." Derek grumbled a bit at that, but both conceded. Well, mostly.

"We _are_ going to have to talk about what happened earlier eventually, Chloe," Derek said softly to where only I could hear. He walked backwards, green eyes intent, and I sighed, knowing there was no way around it. "Okay. We will. Later." He smiled awkwardly, as if unused to such an expression, and mouthed an equally awkward, "thank you." I felt my heart race at the sight, his pretty green eyes taking on a golden tinge with the upcoming Change, and quelled the aching need to see that glowing hue up close with a reminder that I could stare all I wanted to without an audience some other time. I also made a note to mentally Photoshop Simon making a heart-shaped hand gesture at the two of us out when I got the chance. I swear, that boy...

Back to the matters at hand. "Tori?" I touched her elbow, tugging the turtleneck softly. She blinked a couple of times, but didn't say anything. Well, progress was progress, right?

I tried calling her name again, this time pinching the skin on the back of her hand. She glanced at me, but her eyes were very... unseeing. Creepy.

"I don't think she heard..." Liz's concern was plain in her voice. I exhaled through my nose, not really startled by the blonde's sudden reappearance. So she _had_ been around, then.

"I know," I said, scratching at the sleeve of my hoodie. God, it was _cold._ Even with two extra layers since my last trek into the unknown parking lot of an unknown town in Ohio. "It's probably best if I cover for her. We really need to get going."

"I guess... But how are you gonna do that?" That was the Liz version of 'Tori is a loud bitch that can't keep her mouth shut for five seconds. How are you going to make her sudden oath of silence seem less disturbingly cinematic?'

"iPod: the ideal tool for teenagers ignoring the world."

"Oh." And that was that. I tried to grab Tori's sleeve as subtly as I could, not wanting it to be glaringly obvious to anyone that she was wandering around in La-La Land, probably decapitating bunnies and dying rainbows red.

The first four steps were taken in silence. I couldn't handle an absent Tori and pensive Liz at the same time. It was too weird.

"Okay, so... questions. Go ahead."

Liz smiled softly, grateful for my poorly-concealed attempt to change the topic, before shooting off the first round of four.

I'll admit, her inquiries did not concern the topics I thought they would. They were mostly harmless, asking about how Tori was doing, how the search for the others was going. Rae's name came up once in the conversation and I couldn't help but wonder if we'd ever see her again. I wasn't sure I wanted to.

In the thirty seconds it took to reach the car and drop my things in the back, all were given satisfactory answers. Except one.

The unspoken question that we were both asking. Something was obviously bothering Tori... what?

_I_ didn't know. But I knew someone who did.

* * *

I meant snark as in "snarky"... but a snark is actually an imaginary animal thing. Well, whatever. If "huggle" is considered a fuckin' word, so is snark, damn it!

"Kingdom is lost" is a reference to "For Want of a Nail", by the way. And I totally _did_ just steal the Wikipedia definition of Snickers.

Sorry for any OOCness. I'll go back and change what I can once I've reread the books. Promise... :) As for errors, feel free to point them out, be they grammar, logic, or even plot. I'll accept any help I can get, ahaha. The same goes for choppiness. It's been a while since I wrote anything, so I'm a little rusty (during the walk down is where I started writing from again, if you're wondering. Everything before that I wrote in December). Hopefully I'll get it cleaned up.

I'll correct any errors I find, too. Hope this 4000-something word chapter makes up for my laziness... but probably not. orz

**SweetDreamzz3116**: I thought so too, but recently I picked up Frostbitten and started reading it (for the first time), right? And only just yesterday did I come across this line (took me a while to refind, sigh): "We moved into a denser area of woods and the light all but disappeared. While our general vision was slighter better as humans, our night vision suffered." I think the better night vision only applies to their wolf forms. Thanks though, I'm glad people _are_ looking for mistakes. It makes me feel better knowing I have several sets of eyes doing that, ahaha. xD (Turn on PMs if you can!)

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